Ain't No Butterflies Here
by Judah Jones
Summary: He taught her to smoke. She taught him how to jump rope. But can they both learn to love? Jack/OC
1. The best parts of their family tree

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Four Brothers.

**Author's Note:** Read, review, and enjoy.

**Sneak Peak: **Hockey horrors and not so pleasant second meetings.

* * *

are buried underground.

Jack blew smoke into the grey Detroit sky. His feet dangled over the swirling sewage beneath the bridge. Despite the smell, this was his favorite hangout. Cars whipped past behind him, people with somewhere to go. He felt like he could almost be one of them when he was here. He could just pop up his thumb and hitch a ride anywhere, but he never did. Detroit spread out on one side, like a cross-eyed prostitute in thrift store stilettos, and to the other side there was the rest of the world, unattainable and tempting. Someday he'd go there. Someday he'd be in one of those cars, a person with somewhere to go, but not today. Today he sat on the bridge and watched his ash disappear with the rest of the city's sewage.

"Wanna drag?" He held out his cigarette to the boy beside him. Junior Kirksey crinkled his nose and declined the offer.

"Right," Jack said. "God's watching." He looked up and made the sign of the cross over his chest, before taking another drag. "Hail Mary," he said on the exhale.

"I'm not Catholic," Junior muttered, but Jack didn't hear. More likely he just didn't care. Junior had given up years ago trying to share the word with his friends. He wasn't a fighter. He'd spent the past two years hiding out in the bathroom. It's where he'd met Jack the first day their freshman year, reading the stalls. Junior liked to say that it was the only book his friend had ever bothered reading. Jack liked to reply that it was the only book he didn't have to think too hard about. None of that interpreting shit they tried to teach in class. Everything was plain and simple. Johnny loves Clarissa. Johnny has a big dick. Johnny sucks big dick. That was the world as he knew it. That was a dialect he could understand; no fancy, poetry crap about birds and little, red wagons. What did that stuff matter in the real world?

They made an unlikely pair. Junior was from down south. He still had a twang to his words that made people laugh. He was from the Bible belt and his mama liked to pull that belt out from time to time if Junior forgot to say his prayers. He was a good student, a good kid, but a walking target for trouble. Scrawny, black as mud, and a Jesus kid, Junior was lucky if he made it through one day without a beating.

That's where Jack stepped in. For some reason he'd taken a liking to the runty black boy hiding out in the bathroom. Maybe it'd been because Junior was someone who could do his homework or maybe because he'd pitied the kid. Either way, they'd become friends quickly enough and no one messed with a Mercer. Junior's tormenters backed off once he'd started hanging with Jack, the youngest Mercer boy.

People could say a lot of things about Jack, and they did, but no one could say he wasn't loyal. He wasn't a social butterfly. When he wasn't fighting, he didn't interact with anyone other than his family and the two boys he supposed were his friends; Junior and Jess Hellowell.

Now everything any one needed to know about Jess they could see in his last name. Hell. He was on a first name basis with just about everyone at the precinct. His criminal record started with an armed robbery. He was seven years old, with his dad's shot gun, trying to get some bubble gum. It had all gone downhill from there and it didn't seem like there would ever be any going back up. With an alcoholic father and a mother behind bars for dealing, Jess was free to go where and do what he pleased. And he did just that.

"You told him five o'clock, right?" Jack asked, lighting up his fourth cigarette. It was getting dark. He was cold and bored.

"Uh huh." Junior checked his watch. "It's almost six." Jack swung his legs over the railing and leapt down to the pavement.

"Well, I'm not going to freeze my ass off waiting for him. You coming?" Junior looked hesitant, but jumped down from their perch too. He stumbled on the landing. They hadn't gone more than ten steps before they heard someone yelling their names. They stopped and watched Jess dive straight into oncoming traffic. He dodged a speeding taxi cab, flipped off the driver, and skidded onto the sidewalk in front of them, breathing hard.

"Am I late?" he heaved. Jack shoved him out of the way and kept walking. Jess and Junior flanked him.

"Dude, where are you going? I just got here."

"Home," Jack grunted. He burrowed his hands deeper into his pockets, but the feeling in his fingers was still lost.

"Are you seriously angry at me?" Jess asked, grabbing his friend's arm. Jack pulled away. "What crawled up your ass, Jackie?"

"It's cold."

"It's Michigan in the dead of winter. What do you want? Sunshine or some shit?"

"Shut up, Jess," Jack grumbled. He was in a sour mood. "We waited for an hour out here. My dick is a popsicle."

"Cherry or grape? Junior, give it a lick and find out."

"Go to Hell," Jack snapped. Jess jumped in front of them, blocking their path.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what I brought you guys." Jess was grinning. It was the kind of grin that made Junior nervous and Jack excited, because it could only mean trouble or naked girls. Jess pulled a magazine from his jacket and waved it in Jack's face. Naked girls it was.

"Merry Christmas!" he cried. He pulled his arm back as Jack lunged forward, holding the magazine just out of reach. "Not until you apologize."

"No thanks." Jack drew his foot back and kicked his friend hard in the shin. Jess dropped the magazine, but Jack caught it before it hit the ground. He flipped it open, warming up quickly. Or at least forgetting that he was ever cold. Jess peeked over his shoulder, but Junior stood apart. He scuffed the toe of his tennis shoe into the sidewalk.

"Come on man," Jess whined. He grabbed Junior and pulled him closer. "I went through a lot of trouble to get this. Show some appreciation." Junior looked everywhere but at the open magazine. Finally Jess grabbed the back of his head and shoved his face into the crinkled pages.

"Jess! Let me go! Let me go!" Jess laughed.

"They're just boobs," Jack chuckled.

"And the only ones you'll probably ever see," Jess added. Junior managed to wiggle out of his hold and tripped backwards, falling flat on his ass. He glared up at his friends, both of them doubled over in laughter. Jack offered him a hand, but Junior clambered to his feet without help.

"Lighten up, man. We're just joking."

"I'm not," Jess piped in. Jack ignored him and threw his arm over Junior's shoulder.

"Look, I'll go to confessional tomorrow and ask for forgiveness. Will that make you happy?"

"I am not Catholic," Junior said through clenched teeth.

"You say tomato…"

"I say Catholic," Jess finished. He snatched the magazine out of Jack's hands and tucked it back into his jacket for later. The three boys continued walking. Jess skipped ahead of the other two. He stopped suddenly when they rounded the corner onto Jack's street. Junior ran into him and stumbled back into Jack.

"Watch it," Jack grumbled, pushing his friend away. "Man, why'd you stop?"

"I didn't think anyone lived there," Jess said, pointing at an ugly, little car parked on the curb with its trunk popped open. Boxes littered the overgrown front yard of the house next to Jack's.

"Nah, it's been empty since that old man died."

"You think someone's moving in?" Junior asked. Jess and Jack both shot him exasperated glances.

"For the smartest kid in our class, you really are a dumb ass," Jess snorted. "Obviously someone's moving in."

"But that place is a shit hole," Jack said. He turned back to the house. It had been empty for at least two years. The roof sagged in places, a few windows were busted and boarded over, and the front porch was caved in. It didn't even look inhabitable, but if he listened closely, Jack could hear voices coming from inside. It was strange to hear noise coming from a place that had been abandoned for so long.

"Go get the rest of the boxes!" a woman yelled. Not five minutes later, a girl appeared in the doorway. She stepped carefully around the crater in the porch and hurried down the walkway. She didn't see the boys watching her from the sidewalk. Her eyes were cast down, covered by a curtain of lank, brown hair.

"It's a girl," Junior whispered.

"No shit," Jess sneered. He looked her over for a moment before frowning. "Man, she's not hot at all. Why can't you get interesting neighbors, man?" Jack shrugged. He was still watching the girl as she struggled to lift one of the boxes. It was almost as big as she was. She tossed her hair out of her eyes, to see better as she shuffled back to the walk way, but she paused. She looked straight at Jack. Her dark eyes widened, like she'd been caught doing something terrible, and a red flush crept into her cheeks. Jack waved, but she'd already looked away. The girl scurried back into the house. The door closed hard behind her.

"Ohhh," Jess cooed. "I think Jackie has a crush on the new girl."

"What?" Jack snapped, looking away from the house. "Shut-up."

"Jack and the new girl, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g."

"Jess, shut your fucking mouth." Jack stepped towards him, his eyes narrowed, but Jess kept singing until a fist passed dangerously close to his head. He just managed to dodge. Before Jack could attack again, he was running down the street, singing over his shoulder.

"First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Jackie with an STD!" Jess disappeared around the corner. Jack decided he wasn't worth following. He looked back to the capsizing house, and for a second, he thought he saw someone peeking through the window. Someone was yelling again inside. They couldn't make out the words, but it was a sound Jack was familiar with. His past was full of screaming, always screaming, and the sound of it still made his ears ring sometimes.

"Sounds like a happy family," Junior muttered. Jack had nearly forgotten he was still there. He drew his eyes away from the house.

"No such thing as that here." The screaming stopped. He didn't think it would be for long. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah."

Jack started down the path to his front door, when Junior called out to him.

"Hey Jack, don't think about it."

"Think about what?" Jack asked, glancing over his shoulder. Junior looked suddenly sheepish, like he'd said something he regretted.

"You know, just don't think about the bad things. You've got that look in your eyes."

"Go home, Junior. Read your Bible." Before his friend could say anymore, Jack dove through the front door. Warmth crashed over him. He stood in the hallway and listened to the clatter and crash of pans from the kitchen. His mom was cooking, smelled like lasagna, his favorite. He could hear her humming and it soothed him.

His mom. Jack had finally gotten used to calling Evelyn Mercer that. He'd been with her for three years, and in all that time he'd never forgotten the first thing she'd said to him. "I'm going to take you somewhere safe." He hadn't believed her at the time. He hadn't trusted her for the first year. He hadn't spoken a word to anyone; not Evelyn or the three other boys in her care. But she hadn't lied to him.

They lived in the brightest house on the street, with flower boxes in the windows. Of course all of the flowers were dead this time of year, but in the spring they drew the attention of everyone else in the grey neighborhood. It was a rough place. It was Detroit. Somehow Evelyn Mercer made it safe. She made it home. And she'd been patient. She'd let Jack come around on his own. It hadn't been easy. How many times had he run away? How many times had he thrown tantrums? How many times had she sat by his bedside the whole night through, just to be there if he had one of his dreams? Those awful dreams that still came up from time to time.

_Just don't think about the bad things._ It was easier said than done and Junior didn't even know the half of it. He'd seen a few of Jack's scars when they'd gone swimming at the public pool, but there were some scars no one could see. Scars that still opened when Jack least expected them to.

Before he'd come to live with Evelyn Mercer, the only thing he'd ever known was darkness. Thrown between miserable foster homes, he didn't know where he'd come from. He was a dumpster baby, found by the garbage men on a Tuesday morning. No name. No identity. The nurses in the critical care unit had called him Jack, he still didn't know why, and until Evelyn had adopted him, he hadn't taken up a last name. Of course they'd changed his birth certificate so many times, erasing and rewriting the name of each foster family, but it wasn't until Evelyn that he'd found a place to belong. He was a Mercer. Jack Mercer. And he did his best not to think about the bad things. Though he'd learned at a young age that his best usually wasn't good enough.

"Jackie? Is that you?" Evelyn Mercer poked her head into the hall. Her white hair was curled from the heat in the kitchen, her cheeks flushed. She flashed a smile at her youngest son. Jack half-waved as he tugged at his thick gloves and scarf.

"Don't bother un-bundling," Evelyn chirped. "I need you to run an errand."

"Ma," Jack whined. "It's freezing out there."

"Boy, don't argue with me. You don't have to go far." She ducked back into the kitchen, but reappeared minutes later with a fruitcake in tow. She shoved it into Jack's gloved hands. He looked down at it distastefully. It was spongy.

"Take this to the new neighbors and invite them over for dinner."

"Ma! Come on. Can't Angel do it?"

"Well, I didn't ask Angel, did I? I'm asking you." Evelyn placed her hands on her ample hips and pinned him with a look that Jack was all too familiar with; one that let him know there was no point in arguing. Evelyn Mercer was a brick wall. There was no going through her, no going around or over her. You did what she told you to, one way or another. Jack sighed.

"Alright, I'll go."

"That's my boy." Evelyn ruffled his messy hair affectionately. "Tell them to come over around seven."

"Yes ma'am." Jack moved back towards the door, dreading the cold again.

"And be polite!" Evelyn called after him.

"Yes ma'am," he repeated, leaping down the front steps and cradling the spongy fruitcake close to his chest. He hurried through his yard and into the new neighbor's overgrown jungle, grumbling under his breath the entire way, as the wind cut straight through him.

"Nobody even likes fruitcake," he muttered. But it wasn't the cold that bothered him so much. Jack just didn't want to go anywhere near the crumpling house. He didn't want to go near the screaming or the scared little girl. Because all of it reminded him too much of a life he'd lived not too long ago.

Someday Jack Mercer would go somewhere. Someday he planned to leave Detroit, leave the cold, leave the past. But today, he trekked through a strange wilderness of weeds with only a fruitcake and a scowl.

* * *

A fresh start. That's what her mother always called them. Eloise looked at her new bedroom; the peeling peach wallpaper, the naked and stained mattress, the bare walls, dented floors, and trash bag curtains. So this was a fresh start? It seemed the opposite to her.

Eloise dropped her backpack to the ground and stood in the doorway. She couldn't make herself go any further. Of all the places they'd lived in the past seven years, this was the worst. She missed Florida. She missed the sunshine, the beaches, and the heat. Most of all she missed the water, stretching out so far and making her feel so small, like no one could ever see her, like she could go unnoticed. But here, in Detroit, everything was grey and metal. Everything was sad. Even the house. It moaned under their footsteps. It smelled like spoiled milk and death. Eloise had overheard her mother talking on the phone with the realtor. She'd heard about the old man who'd died here a few years back and she couldn't help wondering which room he'd croaked in.

A fresh start. It was the same everywhere they went. Her mother found a man. Her mother fell in love. Things didn't work out. They packed up and left. Eloise had liked the last husband. He'd been a nice man, probably too nice. He'd actually remembered her birthday. He'd actually remembered her name. But none of that mattered now. Somehow, in some way, they all messed up. Her mother always found some flaw in them, some unforgivable flaw.

Eloise moved hesitantly into the room, her room. She sat on the bare mattress, avoiding the rusty stain, and pulled her backpack onto her lap. She rummaged through it, through everything she cared about, and withdrew an old book, bound together with duct tape. She opened it carefully and danced her fingers across the name penciled into the top corner of the title page, right above the bold letters THE ILLIAD. Langdon Kenswick. Her father. This old book and the emerald class ring he'd given her to wear on her first day of kindergarten were the only things she had left of him.

The class ring, scratched and dim, had been his. He'd put it on a silver necklace chain and strung it around her neck, because she'd been afraid, so afraid, of starting school. He'd told her, "Now I'm with you. If you get scared, just hold onto this ring." He'd died that same day, holding her hand as they crossed the street, headed to PS 130, in a drive by. Eloise had seen it all. She could still see it when she closed her eyes at night. The police had called it a random act of violence. They'd never solved the case. They'd given up. After all, there were new deaths every day, more important people to avenge than a community college English professor.

Eloise never made it to her first day of kindergarten, or the second, or the third. She'd missed the year. Then they'd moved to South Carolina. Then they'd never stopped moving. Then her mother had never looked at her quite the same way, because she looked too much like her father. She even had the same expressions and the class ring, that she wore tucked under her shirt, because it was still too large for her fingers. Her mother wanted to forget. Eloise was afraid to.

She flipped to her favorite, dog-eared page of the Iliad and read the line her father had underlined so hard the thin paper was ripped. "And as for fate, I'm sure no man escapes it, neither a good nor bad man, once he's born." He'd been reading the epic to her before he died, and his eyes gleamed when he spoke of Hector and Achilles. It was the only book Eloise had managed to save when her mother threw away all of his things. A book and a ring. It hardly added up to a father.

A loud crash reared in Eloise's thoughts to the present, followed by a shattering wail and a string of her mother's curses. Eloise slipped the Iliad back into her pack and hurried to the kitchen. She found her mother standing amidst a sea of pots and pans with a broken cardboard box in her hands, and Laney crying on the grimy linoleum floor.

"Make her shut-up, will you?" her mother snapped. Eloise scooped the toddler into her arms and swayed back and forth, making hush sounds. Laney's wail dwindled, like a fading siren. She sniffled and looked up at her sister with round, glimmering blue eyes. Eloise smiled at her. The little girl smiled back, toothlessly, though tears still glistened on her chubby cheeks.

"I think she's hungry," Eloise said.

"Then feed her! Do I have to do everything around here?" Cynthia Nuttal, once a beauty, glared at her oldest daughter through thick, fake lashes. She tried, and failed, to cover age and sorrow lines with layers of make-up. Her red nails tapped against the counter, an impatient beat, as she scanned the wrecked kitchen.

"And put these pots away when you're done with that. I'm going to set up my room." Cynthia kicked a strainer out of her way as she brushed past her daughters, leaving behind a trail of heady perfume, lavender. Her heels clicked all the way down the hall.

Eloise shifted Laney to her hip and sorted through a box on the table, looking for something the toddler could eat. They didn't have much yet. No one had gone to the grocery store in the hour they'd been here and Cynthia had refused to stop at all on the long drive. The only thing she could find was a box of peanut butter crackers. She settled Laney in her highchair and dumped the few crackers onto her tray.

"Ick!" Laney cried, smashing them with her tiny fists. "Ick, ick, ick!"

"No ick," Eloise argued, taking one of the crackers and placing it on her tongue. They were stale, but she smiled through it, trying to set an example. "Yum yum." Laney shook her head adamantly.

"Cookies," the child demanded.

"Crackers."

"Cookies."

"Crackers." Laney threw a handful of crumbled peanut butter crackers at Eloise and giggled.

"CRACKERS!" she shouted. "Ick, ick, ick." Eloise bent down and scooped the cracker crumbs into her hands, then threw them into the trash.

"There's nothing else," she said firmly. "I'm sorry." Laney's heart-shaped face scrunched up and turned a deep shade of red. She gasped for air before another piercing wail, unbelievably powerful for something so small, escaped her open mouth.

"Laney, please," Eloise begged, searching through the boxes littering the kitchen. The toddler continued to scream. Scream and scream and scream.

"SHUT UP!" Cynthia yelled from somewhere else in the house. "SHUT HER UP!" Eloise froze in the middle of the kitchen and clamped her hands over her ears. Everything was too loud. She closed her eyes. She wanted to run. She wanted to find her own fresh start. Her mother was still yelling. Laney was hungry and crying. Eloise didn't know what to do.

Then there was a knock on the door and everything stopped. Laney sniffed. She picked up one of the peanut butter crackers and popped it into her mouth, like she hadn't been complaining about them five seconds ago. There was another knock.

"Eloise, answer that!" Cynthia ordered.

"Yes master," she muttered under her breath. She lifted Laney from the highchair and moved down the dim hallway to the front door. It was probably a neighbor, coming to comment about all of the noise. They'd been there little over an hour and Eloise was already sure they were hated. She held onto Laney tightly with one arm and swung open the front door.

"Sorry about the…" Eloise trailed off. There was a boy standing on their porch with some kind of cellophane-wrapped cake in his hands. At least, Eloise thought it was a cake, and she definitely recognized the boy. She'd seen him on the sidewalk earlier. He was a good foot and a half taller than her, with brown hair that looked slept on, and a bored expression. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world than standing on their front porch, and Eloise couldn't blame him.

"Hey," the boy said dully.

"Hello," Eloise replied.

"Helloooo," Laney repeated, clapping her hands together. The boy glanced at her briefly, before bringing his eyes back to Eloise.

"Cute kid. Is she yours?"

"N…n…no," Eloise stammered. "Of course not." The boy just shrugged. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Here," he said gruffly, pushing the cake-thing towards her. Eloise looked at it, not sure what to do. Her hands were full with Laney. The boy seemed to understand. He bent down and set the cake right in the doorway.

"My mom wants to invite you to dinner. We live right there." He pointed at the house to the right of theirs, with empty flower boxes in the windows. "Come at seven." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Eloise cried, taking a step forward. The boy turned back. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, still looking bored. "I…um…thanks for the cake."

"Whatever." Eloise took another step forward.

"What's your name?"

"Jack," he answered shortly.

"Yack, Yack," Laney chanted. "Hellooooo Yack." Eloise wasn't sure if it was just a trick of the light, but she imagined the faintest glimmer of a smile appear and disappear at the corner of his lips.

"Dinner at seven," he said again, before rushing away. Eloise watched him go.

"Yack go way," Laney said sadly. Eloise kissed her forehead and held her tight against the cold wind. She looked across the overgrown yard, dusted in snow, and couldn't deny that it was kind of pretty. And it was quiet, just for a moment, before she could hear her mother calling for her again. Another fresh start. Another city.

Eloise kicked the cake Jack had brought further into the house and closed the front door against the weather. There was still a kitchen to arrange and more boxes to unpack. Her mother was calling out more orders, but Eloise stood still. She didn't notice Laney tugging at her hair. She didn't notice anything. She simply looked down the seemingly endless, unlit hallway. So this was home now. She didn't know for how long. She didn't know where they would go next. She didn't know much of anything, other than that the neighbors had invited them to dinner. That hadn't happened anywhere else. Eloise decided to take it as a good sign.


	2. The terrifying power of human sex drive

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Four Brothers.

**Author's Notes: **Thank you for the reviews. Thank you for reading. May you continue to enjoy.

**Preview: **Eloise's first taste of Detroit's dangers and a much needed apology.

* * *

is horrifically demonstrated by the fact that someone was willing to father you.

Eloise stood at the door, with Laney in her arms, and didn't know what to do next. She could knock. It was the logical thing, but something kept her from doing so. She lifted her hand and let it fall. She looked at Laney, bundled and blowing spit bubbles. Their mother wasn't there. She was _out_, but Eloise never knew exactly where that meant. _Out._

"Want to ring the doorbell, Lane? Want to push the button?" Eloise pointed to the dimly glowing ringer. Of course Laney would want to push it. She pushed, touched, and chewed on everything. The toddler slammed her baby-mitten fist into the doorbell. There was nothing. Laney tried again. They couldn't hear the tell-tale ring on the other side.

"Broken," Eloise explained, as Laney continued to punch the bell. She'd have to knock. They were already late. Eloise was tempted to leave. She would have if she wasn't so hungry. Her stomach gurgled. So did Laney's. And there was only fruitcake to look forward to back home, if it could be considered a home.

"Here goes nothing then." Eloise knocked softly on the door. She waited for a minute or two, before tapping a little louder. Laney wiggled in her arms, growing fussy. It was too cold to be waiting on a stranger's doorstep. She was about to knock again when the door flew open and there was the boy, looking as bored as ever.

"Yack!" Laney exclaimed. A toothless grin took possession of her red and wind-whipped face.

"Hey," Jack said, stepping aside to let them in. Eloise hesitated. She peaked into the house, into a living room that looked exactly like hers, except for the worn couch and the coffee table littered with magazines and the bright drapes over the window. In fact, the more she looked, the more different it became. People lived here. There were three pairs of muddy shoes by the door and a coat hanger decorated with coats and scarves and hats.

"You gonna come in or what?" Eloise blushed. She stepped inside. It was warm. It smelled like bread, fresh bread, and a little like cat urine. Jack closed the door behind them. Wordlessly, he let them past the living room and down a short span of hallway lined with photographs. Eloise tripped along behind him, trying to keep up when her eyes wandered to the pictures. She recognized Jack in a few of them, always grumpy, but they were all recent. No childhood snapshots. Eloise's mother didn't hang family photos. She once said, "I see my children every day, so why do I need them up on my walls too?"

"Don't you have parents?" Jack asked abruptly, stopping at an open doorway. He leaned against the frame.

"Our mom," Eloise began, her mouth dry, "had somewhere to be. She said thanks for the invitation though." Her mother had said no such thing.

"What about your dad?" It was the question she never wanted people to ask and the one that everyone did. Eloise never knew how to answer, but this time she didn't have to.

"Jack Mercer, stop giving our guests the third degree and let them through." A plump woman appeared behind him. She smiled at Eloise and Laney, and each of her age lines seemed to vanish for a moment.

"Welcome to the neighborhood. I'm Evelyn, and you've met my son. You'll have to excuse him. He has the manners of a chimpanzee. God knows I've tried to teach him better." Evelyn's pale eyes twinkled teasingly and Eloise couldn't help cracking a small smile.

"Well, come on in. The food's getting cold. Hope you like lasagna." Evelyn grabbed Eloise's arm and pulled her into the dining room. Jack shuffled in behind them. The table was set with mismatched placemats and dishes. There were four chairs, one already occupied by a dark-skinned man, who stood when they entered.

"This is my other son, Angel," Evelyn explained, ushering Eloise to one of the empty chairs. Angel nodded. Eloise stood. She looked from Evelyn to Angel to Jack. Angel noticed her perplexed expression.

"We're adopted," he said. "Everyone's always confused at first."

"Sorry," Eloise muttered. "I didn't mean to-"

"What are you apologizing for, sweetheart?" Evelyn chuckled. "I've got four sons, all adopted, but my boys all the same, and sometimes they're more than this old woman can handle. Sit down." Eloise sat. She didn't know what else to do. Jack too the chair beside her. He reached for the pan of lasagna, only to have his hand slapped away by his mother.

"Prayer first," she admonished, before glancing to Eloise. "You don't mind?"

"No ma'am." Evelyn reached for Angel's hand, then stretched her other arm across the table towards Eloise. Balancing Laney on her lap, Eloise took the woman's soft hand. Evelyn's grip was surprisingly firm, but not hard.

Jack had taken Angel's hand, but hesitated before grabbing Eloise's, until his mother shot him a warning glance. He took the girl's hand off the table. She flinched a bit, perhaps surprised. Jack doubted she was the type to hold hands with boys, but he noted how small her hand was, how fragile. Likewise, Eloise wondered at how rough his were, how calloused. She suddenly felt like they were from two different worlds, like she'd stepped into an alternate reality where families sat down and ate home-cooked meals together and said the blessing.

They all bowed their heads, even Laney, and let Evelyn say grace. Eloise didn't really listening. She was too busy thinking about if her hand was sweaty or not. She hoped not. There was something about Jack, and his permanently apathetic expression, that unnerved and intrigued her.

"Amen." The moment the prayer ended, Jack let her hand go and reached for the lasagna again. Once more he was swatted away.

"Guests first," Evelyn said. She looked at Eloise, with Laney still settled in her lap. "I wish we had a highchair, dear."

"It's okay." Eloise took the pan that Evelyn slid towards her and dished out some of the lasagna, just enough for her and Laney. Then she passed it to Jack. Once everyone's plates were full, they ate. Jack and Angel shoveled the food into their mouths, while Evelyn reprimanded them about simple things; elbows on the table, napkins in laps, chewing with mouths open. Eloise picked at her food. She fed some to Laney first. The toddler took the first bite with a grain of suspicious, before deciding that she liked it.

"More," she demanded.

"She's a cute one," Evelyn said, waving at Laney. Laney waved back. "What's her name? And yours for that matter? Forgive me, I completely forgot to ask."

"I'm Eloise. This is Laney."

"And your parents?" Eloise's fork slipped. She looked at the colorful placemat.

"Our mom had a previous engagement," she muttered. Evelyn wasn't a fool. She'd dealt with broken children for most of her life. She'd raised four of them, and Eloise was a broken child if she'd ever seen one. She seemed lost. Evelyn noticed that there was no mention of their father, but she didn't push the matter. It all came down to patience. She'd learned that over the years, especially with Jack.

"Next time then," Evelyn said cheerily. "Here, have another helping." Before Eloise could protest, the woman scooped another serving onto their plate.

"This is good," Eloise said.

"Ma's the best cook around," Angel replied through a mouthful.

"Swallow, darling, then compliment me all you want." She focused on Eloise again. "So where are you from?"

"We used to live in Florida," Eloise said slowly, funneling another bite into Laney's open mouth, "but we've lived a lot of places."

"And what brings you to Detroit?"

"A fresh start, that's what mom calls it." It was strange, but Eloise found it easy to talk to the woman. She actually seemed interested in what Eloise had to say, and that didn't happen often, or ever.

"Not the best place for a fresh start," Angel snorted, earning a glare from his mother.

"Don't listen to him. We have our troubles here, but it's not as bad as all that."

"Ma likes to see the good in things," Angel said.

"Nothing wrong with that. Jack, slow down. This isn't a marathon." Jack looked up from his plate, already finishing his third serving.

"Gotta meet the guys for a hockey match," he muttered.

"We have company." Evelyn's voice had a warning note to it, a very motherly note.

"It's okay. I think Laney and I are almost done." Eloise set down her fork. She wiped the sauce off of Laney's face.

"More!" the little girl shouted, reaching for the plate. Evelyn laughed.

"You might be done, but I don't think she is." Evelyn stood up and moved to Eloise, holding out her arms. "Let me take her. You go with Jack, have some fun, I'll watch your sister."

"Ma, I don't want to take her!" Jack exclaimed. Even as he said it, he knew he sounded like a child, but he didn't care. There was no way the girl was coming with him. Jess had already teased him enough. He'd never hear the end of it if he brought a girl to their hockey game.

Eloise tried not to look hurt. She held onto Laney tightly and stood.

"That's okay, ma'am. We should get home."

"Nonsense!" Evelyn snatched Laney out of Eloise's arms. The little girl's face scrunched up, hinting at a tantrum, but before it could begin, Evelyn tickled her chin. It was a simple gesture, but it was enough to make Laney giggle.

"You're new. Go make some friends," Evelyn pressed. "Jack will be more than happy for you to join him. Won't you?" She narrowed her eyes at her youngest son, daring him to argue.

"Yeah Jackie," Angel piped in, enjoying this. "Besides, you'll need a fourth person to play."

"I don't have skates," Eloise said, desperately searching for an excuse not to go.

"I'll let you wear my old ones. They'll be too big, but you can manage." Before she could argue, Angel was gone, no doubt to fetch his old skates. Eloise risked looking at Jack. He glared back.

"Have you ever even skated before?" he asked coldly. And there was something about the way he was looking at her, like she was nothing, like she was a bug he'd like to smash, that opened a part of her that she usually kept locked; anger. Who did this boy think he was?

"I have," she answered stiffly, deciding not to mention that the last time she'd skated, she'd been four and her father had carried her most of the day.

Angel returned with his old skates. They were worn down and held together by duct tape. He pushed them into her hands.

"Here, you can keep them."

"Thanks," she murmured. "Ms. Mercer, are you sure you want to keep Laney?"

"Just go." Evelyn was jouncing the toddler on her hip, smiling. She practically pushed Eloise and Jack out of the dining room.

"Just go," Laney repeated. "Go go go." Eloise doubted she really knew what she was saying, but Laney had certainly taken a quick liking to Evelyn. Eloise didn't seem to have much of a choice. They were at the front door before she knew what was happening.

"Have a good time." Evelyn kissed Jack's cheek. "And behave," she added for his benefit. To Eloise's surprise, the woman planted a kiss on her cheek as well. Then she shut the door. Evelyn and Laney were gone.

Jack and Eloise stood on the porch for a moment, both a bit unsure what had just happened. Jack looked at the girl. She was holding the borrowed skates awkwardly, with the blades pointing away from her, as though she were afraid of them. He sighed heavily. This was going to be a long game.

"Well, come on then," he grunted, slinging his own skates over his shoulders. "And try to keep up." Eloise stumbled after him. She glanced back to the Mercer house once, then to her empty house, and then to Jack striding in front of her. It was obvious he didn't like her, and she wasn't sure why, but she was determined not to care. Eloise hurried to walk beside him, with her head held high.

This was a fresh start, right? She was tired of being walked on. She was tired of being quiet and doing what she was told. One thing was for certain, she wasn't going to let this stupid boy tramp on her. She'd show him. She would.

* * *

And by show him she meant she would fall on her ass the second she stepped on the ice. Angel's old skates weren't just too large. They were better suited for Bigfoot than for her. The game hadn't even started. Jack was a few feet away, talking in a low voice to two other boys. Eloise, unsure what to do, had decided to test the ice. She'd placed one foot in the makeshift rink, with two goals on either side, and lost her balance. She landed hard. Black spots erupted across her vision. When they finally cleared, Jack and his two friends were towering over her. One of them crouched down, looking concerned. Behind him, Jack and the other boy just laughed.

"You okay?"

"Fine," Eloise muttered, ignoring the hand he offered to help her up. She stood shakily and glared at Jack.

"Thought you'd skated before," he teased.

"I have," she snapped. "I'm just rusty."

"Don't worry, sweetheart." Jess skated to her side gracefully and swung his arm over her shoulder. "You can hold onto me if you want." Eloise tried to push him away, but only ended up stumbling again. Junior stabled her.

"Leave her alone, Jess," he demanded.

"I was just trying to be nice, geez." Jess glided away, back to Jack's side. "Since you like this chick so much, you can be on her team."

"The two losers," Jack added. "This should be fun." There was a malicious gleam in his eyes. Eloise liked it better when he seemed perpetually bored. Now he was just cruel. She straightened to her full height, which didn't measure up much compared to the three boys, even Junior. She grabbed the small, black boy's arm and pulled him away from the other two, to collect their hockey sticks.

"Let's win," she hissed, just for him to hear. Junior looked at her curiously. He didn't even know this girl's name. She'd just come tramping along behind Jack, clearly unwanted. She'd seemed so quiet and jumpy when they'd seen her earlier that day, but now there was something positively frightening about her.

"I don't think that's possible. Jess and Jack are good. Really good." Eloise looked him square in the eyes, a half-smile on her lips.

"Then we'll play better. I'm Eloise by the way."

"Junior Kirksey, at your service." She giggled. Junior blushed, but she didn't notice. She was bending down to pick up the hockey sticks. She handed one to him.

"So tell me, are they always like this?"

"Like what?"

"Jerks." Junior thought about it for a moment. Jess and Jack were his only friends. He didn't like to bad mouth them behind their backs, especially not to people he'd just met, but…

"Yes, they are."

"Hey, are you lovebirds ready?" Jess yelled across the ice. Eloise and Junior spun around, both blushing now, but Eloise clenched her jaw determinedly.

"We're ready," she snapped, moving carefully back onto the ice. It was difficult to keep up a tough expression when her legs were trembling. She skated into the center of the rink, face to face with Jack. Junior was behind her, waiting, and Jess stood between them with the puck in his hands. She'd never played hockey before, but it seemed simple enough. Get the puck in one of those nets. No problem.

Without warning, Jess dropped the puck. Jack snatched it. He zoomed down the ice, while Junior hurried to cover the goal, and Eloise raced after them. So it was harder than it looked. Skating slowly was one thing. Skating fast was something else entirely. She fell. Jack scoured. Jess hadn't moved a step. He doubled over laughing.

"It's almost too easy!" he called to Jack, as they set up again.

"Sure is," Jack said, flashing a taunting smile at Eloise. She brushed the ice dust off of her pants and steeled herself for round two, more determined than ever. This time when Jess dropped the puck, she was ready. To her surprise, and everyone else's, she hit the puck first, right to Junior. Jack stood still, too stunned to move, until Jess yelled.

"Move your ass!" Then they were flying again. Jess stole the puck from Junior. Eloise spun, nearly fell, but managed not to. She and Jack soared behind Jess. Eloise was trying to reach the goal, when she was suddenly shoved to the side. Jack rammed into her. Eloise hit the ice again. She landed on her arm and yelped. An unpleasant crack stopped everyone, even Jess, who'd already scoured anyways.

"What'd you do that for?" Junior cried, skidding on his knees beside Eloise. She was curled up on the ground, cradling her left arm to her chest. Jack stood a foot away, his face drained of color.

"Dude," Jess said, coming to a stop beside him. "I didn't know an arm could bend that way."

"Eloise?" Junior said softly. "Are you okay?" She heard him dimly through the pain and looked up. Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry in front of these boys.

"I…I'm fine. I think my arm is…broken."

"Try and bend it," Jess suggested nonchalantly. Junior glared at him.

"She needs to go to the hospital. Jack, help me get her up."

"No," Eloise spat, as Jack moved closer. "Don't touch me. I don't want his help. This is his fault." She held on to Junior with her good hand and clumsily got to her feet, with her throbbing arm still close to her chest. It was white-hot agony. She focused on her anger instead of the pain.

"My fault?" Jack snapped. "I didn't even want you to come. Girls can't play hockey."

"I was doing fine until you shoved me!"

"That's what you do in hockey, dumb ass." Eloise skated closer to him, until they were only an inch or two apart. She'd never been so furious before, but this boy knew how to get under her skin. The searing pain in her arm didn't help to cool her temper either.

"What have I ever done to you?" she yelled. "Huh? I don't even know you! This was your mom's idea."

"You still didn't have to come."

"I didn't ask to."

"But you did."

"So what?" Jess and Junior slipped back, watching the unfolding argument with interest. It was the most they'd ever heard Jack say to someone else. Usually he was a man of no words or monosyllable conversations.

"If you didn't want me to come, you could have just said so nicely. You didn't have to break my arm."

"That was an accident."

"Yeah right."

"Oh, just shut-up," Jack snapped, tired of the fighting and tired of this girl. He liked her better when she didn't talk.

"Don't tell me to shut-up, you stupid…stupid…"

"Bastard is the word you're looking for," Jess threw in.

"Bastard!" Eloise screeched. Her arm hurt like Hell. She'd never cursed before in her life.

"What are you going to do?" Jack taunted. "Tell your daddy on me. Oh wait, you don't have a dad do you? I wouldn't want a daughter like you either." Then Eloise did something else she'd never done in her life. She drew back her good fist and slammed it hard into his face. Jack fell back, caught off guard and still in his skates. The punch hurt Eloise more than it hurt him, but she didn't care. She stood over him, glaring down.

"My dad's dead," she snapped, and then skated away, leaving the three boys behind. She reached the end of the rink and single-handedly removed Angel's skates and pulled on her boots.

"Eloise!" Junior called after her. She didn't look back. She stomped away. The moment she was out of sight, the tears ran free. She cradled her injured arm, but she couldn't cradle her injured heart. Jack's words had cut straight through her. So much for a fresh start. She'd be happy if she never had to see that boy again.

"Eloise!" Junior called again. Jess caught his arm when he tried to chase after her.

"Let her go," he ordered. "I don't think she wants to talk to any of us." Jess turned to Jack, who was still lying stunned on the ground. "Man, that was a dick move, even by my standards."

"I didn't know her…I…she was asking for it." He clambered to his feet, not really believing himself. The girl hadn't done anything to him. He was just bitter that his mother had made her tag along. Jack knew, though he didn't want to know, that everything was his fault. He touched his tender cheek. She'd thrown a decent punch. He was surprised, and somewhat impressed. Junior was glaring at him. Even Jess seemed to be judging him.

"I kind of like her," Jess said after a moment. "She's spunkier than she looks. Knocked you flat on your ass."

"Shut up," Jack muttered. Eloise had injured his pride more than anything else. He skated to the edge of the rink and changed his shoes, no longer in the mood to play hockey. Jess and Junior didn't follow him. They knew better.

"Hey Jack!" Jess called after him. Jack glanced over his shoulder reluctantly. "You know your ma's going to kill you when she finds out about this?"

Yes, he did know, and she'd find out some way or another. His mother always did. Jack began the walk home, like a man on his way to the noose. But no matter what his mother did, it couldn't make him feel worse than he already did. Jess was right. He was a bastard, but he was determined to apologize to the girl. As soon as his pride would allow for it.


	3. You grow on people

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Four Brothers.

* * *

So does cancer.

Eloise trudged along in her mother's old boots, not quite sure where she was going, but walking in the general direction of where she was supposed to end up. And she walked slowly. It was the same every time; a new house, a new step-father, and a new school. The last was the worst, at least the first day; sometimes every day after that. She'd walk into a class of kids who had known each other since they were diapered. All of those curious, occasionally hostile, eyes on her, waiting for her to do something they could hate her for.

Eloise prided herself at being invisible. She could slip through an entire year with no one, not even the teachers, knowing her name. She kept her head down. She kept to herself. Sometimes they would whisper or start a rumor. Sometimes someone somehow found out about her father, but it always blew over soon enough, just old news. There were always more important things than the girl who no one really knew.

The trick was to lose herself in the crowd. She blended. She became nothing. She was ordinary. Plain Jane. This time, however, blending in would be complicated. The cast from her wrist to elbow was a big, flashy 'look at me'. What happened to you? Did you get into a fight? Was it a car accident? What happened? What happened? She didn't want the questions. She didn't want to be seen. She wanted to kill Jack Mercer.

Since the incident, a week ago, Eloise hadn't left the house, but she'd seen him through her window; sneaking out at night to smoke his cigarettes. He was grounded, that much she knew, because every time those two other boys dropped by, Evelyn shooed them away. It gave Eloise some small satisfaction. Yet she still watched him every night. She waited for the weak glow of his cigarette, the only part of Jack Mercer she could see, but she knew it was him. Her knuckles were still bruised from the punch. She looked down at her chapped, red hand and the rotten bruises. She'd never hit anyone in her entire life, not once. It wasn't like her. Eloise had worked for years to hide everything. Living with her mother, it was the only way to survive. She took it in and she let it out. But that boy! That boy had done something to her. Something that frightened her. She'd lost control, only for a few minutes, but it was a few minutes too long. Jack scared her. Even worse, he fascinated her.

None of it mattered though. In her week of self-inflicted house arrest, Eloise had made up her mind to stay as far away from him as she could. As far away as neighbors could stay from one another.

With one hand, Eloise pulled her jacket tighter around her body. The wind whipped around her, through her. They'd lived in cold places before, but this was ten degrees below Arctic, at least in her opinion. She wished she could have stayed home with Laney; curled up on the couch and warm. Well warmer, consider her mother hadn't paid for heating. Considering her mother hadn't found a job. They were living off of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and tap water that tasted like rust.

Eloise stopped at the end of the sidewalk and found herself face to face with a chain fence, a dead end. She didn't know how she'd gotten there. Her mother had told her to go straight and keep going straight until she reached the school. She hadn't mentioned anything about a fence.

Eloise back tracked. She didn't have a watch, but she knew she was late. The wind blew in from the east, so she decided to let it carry her towards the west. She turned right into an alley between two apartment buildings. It was a narrow trail. She could stretch out her arms and brush her fingertips along the rough, brick walls. She stepped carefully around broken bottles. Sounds rained down on her from the open windows overhead; a woman screaming, babies screaming, alarm clocks screaming. It was all so loud. Eloise cupped her cold hands over her ears and kept moving. The alley stretched on forever.

"Hey girlie, pretty girl, what'choo doing out here all alone?" Eloise jumped when a hand brushed her uninjured arm from behind. She could smell him before she could see him; stale beer and unwashed skin. He wasn't old, probably a teenager, with hair so matted with grease and dirt she couldn't tell what color it really was and skin that had a yellow-tint, like old paper. He was thin, so thin she could wrap her arms around him twice if the smell wasn't so horrid.

Eloise stumbled a few steps back. She'd read about things like this in the newspaper, after her mother had finished with the cartoons. She'd heard about the girls found in dark alleys, dead and beaten.

"This ain't a good place for pretty, little girls to be alone." The young man flashed a grin and two missing front teeth. He moved closer, reaching for her hand. Eloise reared back. She wanted to run, but that would mean turning her back to him.

"Lemme take you someplace safe. I know a good place." He grabbed her arm, his grip surprisingly strong. Eloise tried to shake him off.

"Let me go," she demanded. Her voice shook.

"I just wanna take you somewhere safe." He was close. Too close. Eloise fought harder. She drew back her foot and slammed it into his shin. The man howled. He pushed her away. Already unbalanced because of the cumbersome cast, Eloise felt herself falling backwards. She braced herself for the hard concrete, but it never came. Her fall stopped abruptly.

Eloise looked over her shoulder and didn't know whether to feel relieved or miserable or furious. Jack Mercer steadied her, his expression unreadable. Of all the people and of all the places, it had to be him and it had to be here.

"Little bitch," the man snarled, hurtling towards Eloise. She forgot about Jack as the man raised his fist. Time slowed as Jack stepped in front of her. It took one punch and the man was on the ground, blood pouring from his nose. So much blood. Eloise's stomach churned, but she couldn't look away until Jack took her hand.

They walked briskly; Eloise stumbling as she tried to look back at the man they'd left behind. Soon they stepped onto the main sidewalk, into the dismal sunlight, and Jack dropped her hand. They stopped moving.

"You alright?" he asked gruffly, giving her a glance over. Eloise backed away from him. She looked up at him with those doe eyes, trembling. Jack noticed her cast and a twinge of guilt shot through him. That was his fault. Everything seemed to be his fault.

Eloise didn't answer. She couldn't find her words. They were somewhere in the alley with all of that blood. She opened her mouth, no sound came out, but her breakfast threatened to. Eloise doubled over, with her good arm wrapped around her stomach, as she tried to catch her breath through the heaves. Jack didn't know what to do. He stepped towards her, unsure, but couldn't bring himself to actually touch the girl. What would his mother do? What would she say?

"It's okay," he said weakly. "You're safe. He won't bother you again." But it wasn't the man Eloise was worried about. She wiped the corner of her mouth and tried to straighten up.

"I'm fine," she muttered. "I just don't like bl…blood."

They stood, looking at anything but each other, and didn't speak. Despite having spent the past week thinking of all the terrible things she wanted to do to the boy, Eloise couldn't be angry, not now. Jack, on the other hand, was pissed. He stole a quick glance at Eloise. She was still shivering, but it might have been the cold. Her jacket was threadbare and her face whipped red from the wind. He couldn't help wondering what might have happened if he hadn't been passing through. The girl couldn't defend herself, especially not in a cast.

"What are you doing out here anyways?" Jack asked.

"Going to school."

"It's that way." He pointed in the direction opposite where she'd been going. "Couldn't your mom take you?"

"She's asleep." Eloise refused to look at him. "But I'm late, so I should…" She let her sentence trail off as she bent to retrieve her book bag from the pavement. Jack was faster. He slung the sack over his shoulder.

"I'll walk you."

"No," Eloise snapped. "I mean…that isn't…you don't have to. I'll be okay."

"Obviously," Jack said, rolling his eyes. But the corners of his lips hitched into a half smile. Eloise thought about arguing, but her legs still felt wobbly and, though she wouldn't admit it, she was afraid. When Jack started walking again, she followed. So much for avoiding him.

"You really shouldn't run around by yourself," Jack said, taking a cigarette from his pocket.

"And you shouldn't smoke those," she countered. To her surprise, he laughed; a scratchy sound that made her think of gravel crunching under tires.

"Another one, great," he chuckled.

"Another what?" Jack looked down at her, still smiling.

"Are you Catholic?"

"No." Eloise's brows knitted together. She was confused.

"Good." His smile faded. "I was serious though. This ain't a safe place. I'll walk you to school from now on." Eloise stopped. It took Jack a moment to notice. He turned to find her glaring at him. It was almost funny. There she was, half his size, but under the impression she could fight him.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you want to walk me to school?" This was the boy who had broken her arm. The boy who had been a complete jerk. And suddenly he wanted to play nice? Suddenly he was worried about her safety. Eloise didn't trust it.

"You're supposed to thank me," Jack said.

"Why? Because _you_ feel guilty for what happened the other day and you think walking me to school can make up for that." Eloise tore her book bag out of his hands. "Think again." She stalked off, taking a sharp turn to the left. Jack stared after her, momentarily stunned. He wasn't used to people speaking to him like that. After all, he was a Mercer. They usually ran. But this girl just couldn't resist telling him off.

Jack caught up with her. He grabbed her good arm, trying to make her stop, but Eloise shook him off and kept trudging.

"I can take care of myself," she spat. "I don't need you to _protect_ me."

"Would you just-"

"Thanks for helping me back there, but it doesn't mean I'm going to forgive you."

"I just wanted to-"

"Leave me alone!" Eloise spun around, breathing heavily. Jack backed up a step, holding his hands in the air, and shrugged.

"Okay," he said. "But you're going the wrong way again." Eloise took in her surroundings. Everything looked the same to her; cold, grey, and dirty. She looked back at Jack, torn between her pride and common sense. She chose a place between them and threw her book bag onto the ground and scowled.

"Apologize," she demanded. It was Jack's turn to be confused.

"For what?"

"For breaking my arm. For what you said about my…my dad."

"You're kidding, right?" Eloise didn't blink. She wasn't kidding. Jack clenched his fists, trying to keep calm. He wanted to leave her there. She didn't want his help; that much was clear. But he couldn't, because he knew he owed her an apology. That was the worst part.

"Fine, I'm sorry, okay?" Jack muttered.

"Not good enough."

"What? Do you want me to kiss your ass while I'm at it?"

"I want you to be sincere." Jack met her eyes. She wasn't glaring anymore. Instead she seemed to be trying to figure him out. He was afraid of what she might see. It was the way his mother sometimes looked at him. _You're better than this, _is what it said.

"Alright," Jack sighed. "I'm sorry about hurting you and…and I'm sorry for what I said. It wasn't right." He waited for her judgment like a man on death row. Eloise pursed her lips before smiling. It was a timid smile, but it was there.

"Can we start over then?" she asked. Jack held out his hand, relieved.

"Hi, I'm Jack Mercer. Welcome to the neighborhood." Eloise looped her bag over her shoulder again. She ignored his outstretched hand.

"What? No fruitcake?"

They both laughed. Jack rolled his eyes, but he couldn't deny that a weight had been lifted off of his chest. She'd forgiven him. And right then, seeing her laugh, he didn't want to do anything that would ever make her mad at him again. Together, they walked the last few blocks to Eloise's school. She couldn't even feel the first day jitters anymore. They were long gone. All things considered, this wasn't a terrible way to start a new year, a new life, a fresh start.


End file.
